


some things never change

by celeste9



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29408790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celeste9/pseuds/celeste9
Summary: Some day Dean and Cas will figure out what's going on between them. At least, Sam hopes so, for his own sanity.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	some things never change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [copacet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/copacet/gifts).



Sometimes, Sam thinks, he’s really fucking glad Cas is on their side. He’s thinking it now, watching Cas obliterate a demon, all single-minded, brutal focus, trying to get to Dean. It’d be scary being on the other end of it, he thinks.

But he isn’t, so it’s only useful.

Sam knows Cas can take care of the rest so he gets to Dean first, ignoring the ache in his jaw where he got punched and the growing bruise on his shoulder from where he was slammed into a wall. Those are minor concerns, especially compared to Dean, who’s bloody and unconscious where he’s tied in the corner on the floor.

“Dean!” Sam shouts, more reflexive than anything, because he’s pretty sure Dean can’t hear him. Sam cuts through the ropes around Dean’s wrists and ankles and cradles him, patting his face. “Dean!”

He hears the sound of another demon meeting its end and looks up to see Cas striding towards him, his expression still vaguely frightening. Sam lets Cas take Dean’s weight, knowing it’s both better not to argue and that Cas can heal him.

Though he continues to look as though he wishes he had something else to kill, Cas’ hand is exceedingly gentle as it flutters over Dean’s cheek. The blood vanishes, and Dean’s eyes creak open.

“Dean,” Cas says, low and concerned.

“Cas.” Dean’s voice is barely a grunt. His gaze flicks over to Sam. “Sammy.”

“Hey, Dean.” Sam feels the smile tugging at his mouth and lets it come. “Nice job being the damsel in distress again.”

“Bitch,” Dean mutters, and starts to struggle to his feet.

Cas is having none of that. “Dean,” he says, a single word full of command, and surprisingly enough, Dean stops. “Please rest a moment.”

“I don’t feel like someone took a sledgehammer to me anymore so I figure that means you healed me. Makes resting kind of pointless, doesn’t it?”

“You still need a moment.”

“Okay, had a moment. Getting up now.”

Sam doesn’t bother hiding his amusement as Cas rolls his eyes but nevertheless lets Dean stand, keeping a grip on him to help him stay steady. He doesn’t miss the way Dean’s hands curl into Cas’ shirt or the way he clings to him, but he’s kind enough not to say anything.

He figures he can give Dean at least until the car ride before he starts making fun of him again.

Cas’ expression has softened now, that strange gentleness in his eyes that he only seems to have when he looks at Dean. There’s something going on there, Sam knows, but he isn’t sure even Dean and Cas know what it is yet.

Last week when they were bickering Sam told them to get a room, and Cas looked thoughtful while Dean blushed and stammered worse than when people assume he and Sam are a couple. It was weird. Sam doesn’t really want to ask.

He hopes they figure it out, but then, it’s Dean and Cas. Hell might freeze over first.

As they stand there, Dean looks first at the blood on Cas, obviously not his own, and then over their dank surroundings, taking in the bodies on the floor. He looks at Sam, who shrugs and mouths, _mostly Cas,_ and Dean presses his lips together in a very resigned, expecting way. “So, uh, Cas. Hey. You think maybe you went a little overboard with the smiting?”

Cas draws his eyebrows together. “No?” When Dean doesn’t say anything, Cas, glances around, too. “They hurt you, Dean.”

He says it like it’s fact, like it’s explanation, like it’s excuse. Like it’s everything. Sam doesn’t entirely disagree.

Dean sighs. “Okay, buddy.” His hand slides around Cas’ back, fingers tightening in his trench coat.

Cas moves one hand up, gliding into Dean’s short hair.

Something, for sure. Sam clears his throat. “Impala’s out back. You ready to head home?”

“I’d kill for a burger,” Dean says.

“That can be arranged,” Cas assures him.

“And pie?”

Cas’ smile is more fond than exasperated. “Maybe if you promise not to make me have to rescue you again.”

“Hey, could’ve rescued myself. I just figured since you and Sam had already gone to the effort, I’d let you finish it and all. Take the credit.”

“Really noble of you, Dean,” Sam says, snorting.

“That’s me, I’m fucking Sir Lancelot.”

“Sir Lancelot is a poor comparison, considering he absconded with--”

“Yeah, okay, thanks, Cas,” Dean interrupts. “Not asking for a lesson.” He leans faintly harder into Cas as they begin walking. Cas is carrying most of his weight, stroking his fingers through Dean’s short hair as they go.

Sam watches them for a second before following, bemused. Tomorrow, maybe. Maybe tomorrow he’ll tease them.

“You know I really could’ve gotten out myself.”

“I find that difficult to believe, considering you were unconscious and beaten on the floor when we found you.”

“That was part of my plan. Biding my time.”

Or maybe now, Sam thinks, for the good of his sanity, looking skyward towards the dirty ceiling. They deserve it now.

“About that room,” he says, and feels better already.


End file.
